


Entanglement

by Son of a Lich (Krazychick10101)



Series: Debauched [2]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Adventure, Alcohol, Drinking, Gen, Horde-Alliance conflict, Long lost siblings, Major Character Injury, Past Character Death, Portals, Scryer-Aldor conflict, outland - Freeform, slight whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-09 16:51:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10416669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krazychick10101/pseuds/Son%20of%20a%20Lich
Summary: Erikson Marlowe doesn't have the best of luck, lately. Separated from his group and left to die on the forest floor of Ashenvale, he finds himself stranded with a wound that doesn't want to heal. Not only that, but people he thought long dead seem to be crawling out of their graves-- with dire quests indeed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is partially based on true events. While trying to get to Silithus I became confused and wondered around Mulgore for about thirty minutes, giving me an idea for this story. All characters unless stated otherwise belong to me or Blizzard. Enjoy!

He had thought he was going the right way, only to turn around and realize that he had been talking to himself for the last twenty minutes. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He muttered under his breath. 

Honestly he should have caught it sooner. Mallory and Durm’s whispered argument had stopped, Alunette had gone completely silent and Sprocket had stopped asking him ten questions a minute. It had only been when he said “Wait guys wait.” and turned to check that they had stopped had he realized he had either walked ahead or made a wrong turn. Then again, they may have gotten tired of his seriousness. 

A few feet away stood a pack of Alliance soldiers, mainly humans and night elves, but he could spy a few of the otherworldly draenei in the mix. He couldn't take them on alone, so in his vast intelligence, he decided to try to sneak around them.

He had neglected to take into account that his plate, no matter how carefully he walked, would always make noise. 

“Who's there?” A human called out in common. 

Erikson held his breath and stood completely still. Undeath had its perks.

“We know you're there, come out and maybe we’ll make your death quick.” The same human called again. The voice was feminine, and familiar. He didn't know where he had heard it before. 

He stubbornly remained where he was hiding, poorly, obviously, in a final act of defiance. To his delight he heard one of them stomp into the brush after him.

“Ugh, it's a damn plaguebringer.”

“Fuck you.” 

There was a flash of steel and he flung his shield-clad arm up to protect himself. He countered the swordsman and slashed his own sword at his attacker, only for it to strike a thin glimmering shield. 

He was fighting a damned paladin. 

“How ‘bout you come out of your little bubble, coward?” He goaded, throwing out another strike, only for the same result. He received no answer as the paladin was chanting something, so he raked his sword down the side of the shield once more. “Come out come out~”

The paladin smiled at him and she lurched forward so fast, even he couldn't react. A burning pain like nothing he had ever felt in his undeath spread through his abdomen and Erikson let out a scream that would put a banshee to shame. 

The paladin had sunk her sword up to the hilt into his abdomen. Was it in his armor? Did it go through a chink? He didn't know. The pain was on par with the Light and greater still.

It wouldn't hurt so bad if she hadn’t blessed her sword with the Light five seconds before she stabbed him. Even through the pain he wanted to sink his fingers into her eye sockets to wipe that shit-eating grin off of her face. 

“Look me in the eyes you _bitch_.” He spat. “When you're killing me you're going to look at me.” 

She decided to humor him and wretched his helmet off of his head. The second she did, however, a look of horror overtook her features. She looked like she was about to be sick. 

“Erik?” She whispered, “No!” She pushed him down, planting her foot firmly onto his chest and pulled, earning herself another scream from him. Her sword came out with a wet sucking sound. “You died years ago!” She kicked him away from her, drawing a grunt from him. “Why didn't you just _stay dead?_!” 

It was the second before he passed out that he recognized the woman in front of him. It was his sister, Hannah. 

-|-

Forsaken don't dream. The curse of undeath had freed them from that. 

It was memories that antagonized Erikson. Memories of his family, of his homeland from when he was alive. Back when he had a family, back when he was happy. Of his sisters, Hannah and Diane. _Hannah_. But the most prominent and demanding memories were of the plague, slaughter and of the Scourge.

Strange voices entered his mind, singing and humming in a language he couldn't understand. Despite the foreign tongue, it was oddly soothing and seemed to lull him away from bad memories, driving him back into the arms of his mother when he was seven, his chubby fists full of flowers. 

He floated there in a purgatory of sorts, wondering what had happened. Had he died once again? Was this his eternal damnation? Was he a hallucinating mess at the bottom of an Alliance jail cell awaiting execution? 

He didn't like any of those options. Erikson thrashed violently, like he was attempted to get his body to respond again. He knew it was foolish, but it was nice to hope. 

The second he started thrashing the soothing chanting started up again, rolling waves of calm over his mind once more. He didn't know what to do anymore. 

He allowed himself to slip into inky blackness once more. 

-|-

Finally, after what seemed like several eternities, he was permitted to open his eyelids once again. The second he did however, he hissed and yanked a blanket his fingers found purchase on up over his head. The damned windows were open. 

The movement didn't agree with him, as pain flared violently in his abdomen and he bit back a groan, rolling slowly onto his side. He wasn't used to pain anymore, it made him feel like a wimp. 

Despite his abrupt awakening, he had a million questions for the people who were not present at the moment. Where was he? Where was his armor? Who put him in this stupid nightgown? Why are the windows open so far? Why does it smell like cows?

Cows. That answered one of his questions.

Heavy footfalls sounded like they were approaching wherever he was being kept. It seemed like he was about to have all of his questions answered. 

Whomever was there must have clued in on his fidgeting, because he heard them say; “Oh, are you awake little one?” 

He pulled the blanket off, squinting his eyes as they got used to the light once more. So far he could see he was on a pallet in the floor of a small wooden hut with rounded windows, and a giant tauren in the doorway. Upon further inspection, he could see the tauren had his horns shaved flat, and long plaits of hair tossed over either shoulder. His fur appeared blonde, but it was hard to tell in the dark. 

“Where am I? Where-- agh-!” He tried to sit up only to suffer immediate regret. It would seem that his sword wound was still there. 

“Careful, you are still badly injured.” The tauren replied calmly. He made his way over to the pallet and knelt down on one knee. “I found you in Ashenvale, I am Dav. You are in Thunder Bluff.” 

“Erikson. Hey; why didn't you get one of your shape-shifters or spirit-walkers to fix me?” He demanded.

“We tried. The wound would not close. It had to be stitched back together, but do not worry, even the undead will heal with time.” Dav explained. 

“Ha-ha. Funny.” Erikson grunted as he sat up, painfully. Any twinge of a muscle in his belly and the wound would flare up in a hot pang of fury. 

“ _Please_ try not to rip that open again. We and your friends in the pools of vision would like to keep you whole.” Dav put a hand on his shoulder, but made no move to push him down. 

“My armor?” 

“Being repaired by our blacksmiths, but your sword and shield are against the far wall.” He pointed to the weapons leaned against the wall. Erik sighed with relief. 

He started to feel dizzy. It was a sensation he was familiar with, as he enjoyed getting drunk often. However, this wasn't the I’m-having-a-good-time dizzy, it was the I'm-going-to-pass-out dizzy. Dav must have sensed this as well, as he was trying to lower him as carefully and quickly as possible. 

“Do not push yourself, you got very far today! This is the first time you were awake in two weeks!” 

“Two weeks?” What the hell had that sword done to him? That couldn't have possibly been the work of the Light!

“Don't fret. If you're still awake when I come check on you again, I'll see if I can get some food in you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Just outside of Thunder Bluff stood a woman. She was dressed entirely in black, from her dress to her cloak. Her face was almost entirely obstructed by a good, but one could see her lips, the wispy ends of blonde hair and one could make out the tapered points of tattoos that came from her eyes. In her hand she held a staff topped with the symbol of the church of Light. An odd symbol in Mulgore, but not unheard of. 

She was unnervingly calm as she boarded the elevator, watching it go up with a practiced patience. At the top, the guards regarded her with familiarity and allowed her to pass. She was obviously no stranger to the city. 

She seemed to almost glide, like her feet didn't touch the ground. She made a beeline for Spirit Rise, most dismissing it as her wanted to be among her own kind again. Everyone knew to stay out of her way. She was not an uncommon sighting as of late. 

“My fair Lady.” An apothecary smirked as she entered the Pools, where the Forsaken resided, “What brings you here again? And so soon?” 

“I wish to commune with the Pools of Vision, Ryder. Nothing more.” Her voice was raspy, like the air caught on something on its way over her vocal cords. 

She then began her chanting and pacing that she did with every visit. At this time of the night, it was only himself and the Lady, as he was a mere Junior Apothecary, so he had to take all of the day’s notes and organize them, as well as do a few other tedious tasks, before he could go as well. It was safe to say she was never bothered by him, though, he could care less about what this woman wanted with the Pools. 

As she finished her chant, the pool she had been walking around glowed an even brighter blue than before. She stepped into it, her robes and cloaca gathering at her waist as she wadded towards the center. 

Complete silence fell for several minutes until finally; “Who is coming?” She asked to nothing. 

“How long until they arrive?” Again, silence answered her. 

“Do they know where you are?” She asked after several moments of silence. 

“I-- I cannot do that as I am now.” 

“Who would help me?” 

Silence fell once more. Ryder figured she had finished her odd musings, but she hadn't moved from the pool. 

“I understand now.” 

-|-

Erikson sat on the edge of the inn’s upstairs balcony, nursing a skin of Mulgore Firewater. It turned out that even tauren drink didn't burn as much as he liked, but it got him drunk, so he didn't mind. 

It had been several days since he had woken up, and Dav took every opportunity possible to fuss over his condition. He could barely walk with good posture, often bending forward and the act of sitting or standing up pained him. His wound made little progress, and Dav strongly recommended he stop drinking. He had, of course, laughed at that statement. 

He took another draft as he heard footfalls behind him. “If you're here to chastise me again, you're wasting your breath.” 

Instead of that, Dav sat down next to him. “How are you?” 

“In pain. Have your priests figured out what the hell is wrong with me yet?” He asked as his gazed out at the sunset. Mulgore didn't look too bad. 

“Unfortunately no. The only things our medics could surmise when they were treating you was that the wound was inflicted with a sword enhanced with the Light. However, I haven't seen any sentient undead like yourself affected by the Light in such a way.” Dav explained. “We’re not sure what to make of your situation at the moment.” 

“That's comforting.” He drank deeply from the skin, savoring the slight burn as it went down his throat. Dav let out a defeated sigh. 

“I do believe I have a theory.” 

“Do tell.” 

“Perhaps whomever stabbed you was not a mere member of the Alliance.” At the mention of ‘whomever’, Hannah’s face flashed before his mind. “They must have a stronger connection to the Light. A more purer connection, almost like they are plugged into the source.” 

“What, like the Blood Elves did?” He asked. 

“Exactly.” Dav replied. “I do not know how or why, but I have reason to suspect that this is not the same Light wielded by the priests and paladins of Azeroth.” 

With this revelation, both of them sat in silence for several minutes, admiring the sunset. Erikson continued to nurse his Firewater till the skin was empty, and leaned back on his hands. The position stretched out the muscles of his stomach and brought on discomfort, but over the past few days he had gotten used to it. 

“You know--” he cut himself off and craned his neck to see a commotion that had broken out on one of the other rises. “What's going on over there?” 

Dav stood and copied Erikson, following the forsaken’s gaze to Spirit Rise. There appeared to be several humans arguing with the guards there, how they even got up there was a good question. 

“You know I know your people like to be pacifist and all, but I don't understand why they're arguing with them when they're obviously getting ready to kill those guards.” Erikson commented. Dav turned back to face the man.

“What do you mean?” He asked. 

“They've got their weapons out, look how they're holding them.” Erik pointed at the group of humans. “They want the Pools of Vision--” he groaned as he hauled himself up, pain flaring back up in his abdomen. 

“Where are you going?” Dav asked as he walked back into the inn towards his sickroom, where his equipment was. 

“There are Forsaken in the Pools of Vision, I have to go help them.” He was leaning heavily on the wall. His fingers fumbled with his sword and he dropped it. Black spots dances across his vision and Erikson was _pissed_. 

“You've barely recovered, you can't even walk straight. Even the undead must recover from some wounds.” Dav attempted to reason. “Sit down, let me go--” 

“ _No_.” Erik struggled with the straps on his plate gloves. The pain in his abdomen grew sharper the longer he stood. 

“I will go. Erikson we are wasting time. Sit down and I will go.” 

Erik finally gave up. With a groan he sat down on his makeshift bed and bent forward, hugging his stomach. Dav decided he probably wasn't going to move, and walked out of the room and down the stairs before breaking into a run. 

Spirit Rise was a jog away from where he housed the injured Forsaken, and Dav could waste no time getting there if Erikson’s prediction was correct. He located the bridge that connected his current rise to the Spirit Rise and ran like he was being chased by the Burning Legion. A few others had heard the commotion and were also rushing to the guards aid, but no one was doing anything. Yet. 

“You have to allow us in! You let those _corpses_ in every day!” A shrill female voice cries out. 

The Tauren guard brandishing an ax huffed. “Those corpses are our allies. You are not. We still allow you to leave if you leave Mulgore now.” 

“I'm sorry, did I say this was a discussion?” The human woman stepped forward. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled up into a tight bun, and her face was rather familiar. 

“Commander Marlowe-- perhaps we should turn back.” A nervous looking soldier- more of a boy, really, said as he clutched his polearm. 

_Marlowe. Dav would remember that name. Her name is Commander Marlowe_.

“You will give us access to the Pools of Vision. I know the Lady in Black has been here, and you all know it to.” She snarled. 

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Another guard piped up. 

“Don't lie to me, cow. I've been monitoring this area for a while. Just give me access to the Pools and we’ll be on our way.” She snarled. 

“You cannot--”

“Who are you to stop us?” She raised her sword, glowing with holy energy unlike anything Dav had ever seen before. 

“Stop!” Dav couldn't watch this anymore. “We will allow you to see the Pools, but I will accompany you.” 

“Archdruid, this is unwise.” A young priestess said from behind him. 

“I know, but I would like to end this without bloodshed.” That and the woman seemed rather gung-ho about getting into the Pools, even if she had to slaughter everyone present. Moreover, he did not like the look of that blade. Something was just, _wrong_ with it.

The crowd parted for him as he made his way to escort the humans into the Pools of Vision. The humans begrudgingly followed him into the cool caves, startling the Forsaken in there. 

“Pay them no heed, friends. They simply want a look around.” Dav said, attempting to calm the nervous Forsaken, who shuffled around and almost tried to group together. After a few tense moments however, they went back to their work, hunching themselves over their work tables and speaking in hushed tones. 

The humans swept around the Pools, touching the water, trying to look at the apothecary’s notes, getting too close to the warlock trainers and generally upsetting everyone in there. Once they had seemingly completed their task, the one called Commander Marlowe stomped up to him. 

“I suppose this is the whole cave?” She huffed. It wouldn't have surprised Dav if she started frothing at the mouth. 

“Yes, it is.” Dav replied calmly. The commander shook her head. 

“So be it. But do not think this is over.” She narrowed her eyes at him and motioned for the others to follow her. 

The humans marched down the rise, the priests floating down and the paladins using the elevators. The crowd dispersed, everyone going back to their tents and homes, the threat gone. Dav himself went back to the inn, knowing without a doubt that Erikson was probably mewling on his bed. 

His prediction was a little off, as Erik was merely laying on the bed, but he was obviously in pain. Saying a quick prayer to Mu’sha, bright light shined in from the window. Erikson’s muscles visibly relaxed. 

“What happened? No one died right, I didn't hear any screaming.” 

“No one died. I escorted the humans to the Pools and let them look around. Their ‘commander’ was quite a character though.” Dav remarked.

“I could hear her shouting from here. What did she want?” 

“I'm not sure. She mentioned this, ‘Lady in Black’ but that's it.” Dav shrugged. “Do you know anything about it?”

“‘Fraid I don't, big guy.” Erikson sat up with a groan. “Now come on, you owe me some Firewater.”


	3. Chapter 3

Thunder Bluff was quiet at two AM, completely dark and unresponsive to anything outside of it. Even the night shift guards were sluggish, letting the shuffling around the city itself go unnoticed. 

By contrast, the Undercity never slept. Erikson was used to getting up in the middle of the night to train when he couldn't sleep. Now, however, he tip-toed through the road in the darkness, sword and shield slung over his back as he attempted to find the training grounds with only the stars as lights. 

The training grounds weren't on any of the rises, so he didn't have to do any shifting around. He wasn't a Deathstalker for a reason. 

He tried to keep his practice quiet, but one could only be so quiet when you repeatedly hit a wooden training dummy with a sword and banging its face with your shield. Fortunately for the dummy, he couldn't gut the poor thing, and spin attacks were still too painful for him to attempt. Letting out a grunt, he swung his sword hard into the dummy, the blade cutting deep into the wood. When he went to yank it out, it stuck fast and he fell painfully on his ass. 

“Having fun?” 

Despite being a scary undead, Erikson jumped. “What the hell, Dav!” 

The tauren sighed as he approached, watching the undead struggle to get to his feet. He reached down to try and help, but his responses were growls and hands swatting him away.

“You are still injured. You need to be careful.” Dav chastised the smaller man. 

“Dav it's been weeks, I think I'm fine.” He finally got to his feet, walking over to the dummy to pry his sword out.

“It has been weeks, and there is almost no progress with that wound.” Dav countered, crossing his arms. 

Plate clanked. The night shift guards looked around, heads lolling. The only sound was Erikson and Dav arguing. 

“Then maybe you should try healing me again.” He grunted as he put a foot on the dummy and tugged. His sword moved slightly where it had stuck. 

“The last time we tried, nothing happened.” It was always a strange thing to think back to. Even the undead could be healed by the Light, even if it caused extreme pain. “Something is blocking it. You must be patient with us, and with yourself.” 

“I don't have time to be patient-- I have to find my friends.” Erikson growled, bending over painfully to pick up his shield. The shadows moved, he dropped it in surprise and brandished his sword in front of him. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Dav asked from behind him. 

Madness struck. Masked figures appeared from seemingly nowhere, having already sapped the guards while they weren't paying attention. In a flash of daggers and maces they decimated any remaining ones who had come to Erikson’s startled cry. 

Recovering quickly, Erik snarled and swung hard, catching one by the torso. Another was on him, thrashing and swinging their blades wildly. He couldn't pull his shield up fast enough and was rewarded with gashes along his right arm. 

He kicked the other in the stomach and pole-vaulted over the other with his sword, planting his feet onto another would-be assassin. 

Red was on the grass, precious red. The smell of death filled Erik’s nostrils. It was a smell he was familiar with, a smell that sometimes, he looked forward to. Death meant victory. Death meant food.

He pushed that down and stabbed another rogue right in the throat, the latter gurgling as they fell to the ground. Red sprayed across his sword. Hunger gnawed at his stomach. 

Red on his sword, red on their tabards, red on his hands. Red on his teeth. Red in his throat. The iron taste on his tongue, slippery meat sliding down his gullet. A hand on his shoulder. 

_Diane screamed like a banshee as his jaws closed around her thin neck, thrashing against his unresponsive body. She begged and pleaded with a brother who was no longer there._

“ _Erikson?_ ” The voice was a familiar masculine voice, deep and rumbling, like he was underwater. “ _Are you in there?_ ” 

The body next to him was half eaten. Diane-- no, not Diane, just some random assassin. The tabard was torn almost beyond recognition but two features could be made out; gold trim and a corner of a red flame. 

“Scarlets..” he croaked. His voice sounded almost feral to him after his little rampage. 

“Are you alright? I have never seen one of your kind fight like that.” Dav said, hand still rested on his shoulder.

“You should see my friend Jack. He's murder on the battlefield.” He stood, groaning deeply. Whatever happened when he lost control had deaden him to pain enough that when he regained control his stomach felt very messed up. The muscles were overused and stretched too much.

He brushed himself off. “I suppose we should go alert any remaining guards and clean up.” His stomach throbbed when he started to walk. 

“You are bleeding.” Dav commented. 

He looked down. Even covered in the blood of someone else, Dav could tell his old sword wound was what was soaking through the thin linen shirt he was wearing. So that's why it hurt so much. It seemed undeath couldn't save him from everything.

“Dammit--” he cursed as he swayed slightly, “Dav--”

“You'll be okay.” The tauren seized him by the shoulders, “Just a popped stitch.” He steered the undead man towards the Spirit Rise. 

-|-

The Lady in Black stood at the edge of the ridge that separated Mulgore from the Stonetalon Mountains. 

“Ma’am?” A large draenei shaman asked from behind her. “Is something wrong?” 

She sighed, and came off from the ledge. She walked over to their little fire, where a blood elf was working to try to make it a bit bigger. “Nothing, just thinking.” 

“You should rest. Me and Eydís will stand watch, you have nothing to worry about.” He soothed, walking over to join the blood elf. The wind picked up, sounding almost like singing as the fire grew bigger. The blood elf sat back, annoyed. 

“I had that.” He huffed, crossing his arms. 

“Sure you did.” The draenei chuckled. 

“The dead have no need for sleep.” She muttered as she walked over, listening to their quarreling. “Vareek, stop antagonizing him.” She sat down with a huff next to the draenei, shedding her cloak in favor of the fire’s warmth. 

The fire gave her skin a more ebullient appearance, but did little to trick anyone who was truly looking. The chunk missing from her neck, cracked skin of her shoulders and flaky skin on the corners of her mouth was more than enough to reveal her status as undead. Limp blonde curls spilled down her shoulders, framing a face that retained some beauty frozen by undeath. Black, angry lines just under her eyes dragged their way down her face, tapering off just above her lips. 

“Are you going to tell us about what the magic pools told you?” Eydís asked, a bemused smirk on his face, one long, dark red eyebrow quirked.

“I was told everything I needed to know.” She turned to Vareek, “Now for your part. Tell me where the Naaru, O’ros, lies in your ship.” 

Shock overtook Vareek’s features. “How do you--? You can't possibly expect-- they'll never allow it!” He sputtered. 

“Maybe not alone, but you'll be with us, yes?” She smiled. 

“I-- yes I might--” 

“‘Might’? I'm not paying you to ‘might’.” 

“Yes yes of course I'll be there but-- what if they don't believe me? You're more than capable of casting a mind control spell, and Eydís here is brilliant with illusions!” He protested. 

“But do they know that?” The Lady in Black smirked. 

“No.” Vareek concluded, “I suppose you're right.”


	4. Chapter 4

Erikson gritted his teeth as the tauren woman, Vira, she had said her name was, threaded a needle through the split halves of his abdomen. 

It had taken an hour to get help, as there were several badly injured defenders that had been found, and seeing as Erik was undead-- he could wait. Or at least, he thought he could wait. 

He hadn't felt pain in a long time, and despite everything he was trembling like a leaf. Dav had explained what had happened to Vira, and just to be safe she decided to double his stitches to avoid his guts threatening to spill out at a single hit. She wanted to hold off trying to heal him till they could get one of the shamans, seeing as the Light wasn't helpful at the moment. 

Dav had his massive hand resting gently on his forehead, a prayer to Mu’sha trying to keep Erik calm. 

“You're doing great.” He said, “Just a few more minutes.” 

“‘M not in fucking labor.” He grunted, rolling his eyes. 

“Please stay still, I don't want these to be too tight.” Vira chided, carefully pushing her needle through his skin again. Erikson cringed. 

In a seemingly vain attempt to keep himself calm, he started to hum the tune of a lullaby he used to sing his kids. It was low in his throat, no one could hear it but him, but it was more soothing than Dav’s or any priest or shaman’s healing. It brought him back to a better time.

_“By-son Lull, cook the kettle full, there sailed three ships from the har-bor, the first was so--”_

“All done!” Vira smiled as she tied off the last stitch. “It looks like he's falling asleep.” She chuckled as she gestured to Erikson’s half-lidded listless stare. 

“‘M awake.” Erik sat up abruptly, pain spiking in his stomach. 

“Careful, you'll tear your new stitches and Vira will make you stay here all day.” Dav chuckled, guiding the undead up and out of the first aid hut. 

Erik hunched over, begrudgingly missing Dav’s healing. However, he caught sight of the bodies of the people they had slain earlier this morning covered by a tarp and quickened his pace. 

“Where are you going?” Dav asked, nearly stepping on Erikson’s heels as he followed. 

“I want to look at the people who attacked us again.” He said, “I want to know who they're affiliated with.” 

He had an idea, but he needed to see them again to confirm. He sat down so as not to stress his abdomen and lifted the tarp. 

There were five in total. They had all met their end by way of himself or Dav, especially the one with deep grooves and bite marks in its skin and muscle. His guts turned sour at his own vice. 

He inspected the intact tabard on one of the bodies but before even looking at the others he knew who they were. A red flame. The Scarlet Crusade. 

Great. 

“How long have the Forsaken taken residence in the Pools of Vision?” He asked. 

“Years now, but I thought the Scarlet Crusade was only in the Eastern Kingdoms.” Dav answered him.

“They do. Who were those people you let in there a day or two ago?” 

“Are you trying to say--?”

“There's nothing I'm ‘trying’ to say. I know.” He stood up, groaning quietly. “Anyone else come to the Pools before the humans?” 

Dav shrugged. “Don't know. Many of your kind go in and out everyday.” 

Erikson sighed. “Well that helps us a lot.” Not.

“What do you suggest we do?” Dav asked him. 

Erikson didn't answer. He was thinking. His sister, Hannah, had just attacked him a few weeks ago. Now these Scarlet Crusaders attack Thunder Bluff. Nausea settled into his guts, what was left of them anyways. 

“Dav..” He said quietly. 

“Yes Erikson?” 

“I need to leave.” 

-|-

“You cannot be serious!” A heavily accented voice questioned, sounding like he was at the end of his rope.

“On the contrary, my dear Vareek. I am completely serious.” The Lady in Black smirked. “We’re going to steal that boat and sail all the way to the Azuremyst Isles.” 

The group was staked out just outside of a Night Elf dock, where the boat that traveled between Darnassus and what used to be Auberdine docked. The bushes and trees hide them well, but with the night elves and their odd love affair with nature, she couldn't say for how long. 

“Eydís will sheep the two closest to the ship, then kick them into the water. Vareek, you trap the other two in winds, I'll handle the captain.” She explained. 

“Are you sure you can handle that woman?” Vareek raised an eyebrow. The Lady in Black was no pushover, but she wasn't exactly winning any arm wrestling matches anytime soon either. 

“I'll be fine.” She huffed. “Eydís, did you hear me?” 

The blood elf had not spoken at all since waking up. He hadn't touched breakfast and now sat staring at his lap. He worried both of his companions. Finally, however, he looked up. 

“I hear you, ma’am.” 

“Well then, it looks like we’re in agreement. On three--” 

“You can't just do it on three! We need a formation. It would ensure we don't get captured.” 

She rolled her eyes at Vareek. “Fine. Eydís, you will be in front to do the sheeping. Vareek and I will be right behind you, don't worry.” 

The blood elf merely nodded weakly and stood, placing himself in front of and between his companions. 

“Now on three.” She said. “One..”

“Two..” 

“There they are!” 

“Light, I hate nature!” The Lady in Black cursed as she left forth a wave of holy energy at their ambushers. The night elven sentinels shrieked, the ones in front retreating with burns to their hands and faces. 

A voice from behind her boomed in thalassian and three of the elves turned to sheep. Eydís let loose a wave of frost energy, freezing his two closest attackers in their tracks. The third was not so lucky. 

Instead of simply freezing her like the others, or sheeping her, he put his forehead to her’s and clasped her hands, almost like they were dancing. This was not a dance. Eydís growled hungrily as he sapped the very last remnants of arcane from her blood, before dropping the drained husk to the ground. 

“ _Kim’jael!_ " Eydís growled, eyes wild. He released a massive torrent of arcane at Vareek’s two captives, who up until he hit them had been suspended in winds. 

Silence fell. 

“What..” The Lady in Black said, “Was that?” 

“I feel better now.” Eydís remarked, brushing himself off.

“I can see that.” She replied, stepping over the bushes. It seems that the only night elf left was that blasted captain, Seasky. The Lady in Black chuckled. “Stand back men, let me show you how it's done.” 

Captain Seasky readied herself as The Lady approached. “Halt, Horde scum!” 

She smiled. “Light take you, captain.” 

A pillar of bright white struck the captain where she stood. She had no time to react and afterwards well, there was little of her left to react too. 

“I guess she was right.” Vareek said, astounded, “Come Eydís, Azuremyst awaits.” He grabbed the elf by the arm and hauled him after The Lady in Black. 

-|-

“You cannot leave, you can barely walk!” Dav exclaimed, watching Erikson strap on his wrist guards. 

They had been arguing for over twenty minutes while the undead man put his armor on. He was gung-ho about getting out of Thunder Bluff and had nothing of what Dav was saying, even if he did sway where he stood. He simply wouldn't listen to reason. 

“If you're so concerned, come with me.” Erik turned his yellow eyes to Dav. The tauren swallowed. 

“You are far too weak to leave.” He pressed on, trying to get the other man to see reason. 

“You're a Druid.” Erikson said, slinging his shield up onto his back, “Come with me then.” He secured his sword to his belt. “I get into enough trouble by myself, I could use a healer.” 

“You--” Dav dropped the train of thought. There was no convincing Erik to stay, he would have to follow him to ensure proper healing-- and to study just what in Mu’sha happened to him. 

Erikson quirked a wispy eyebrow. “So?”

“I will be coming with you. I cannot have you wasting all the time I spent trying to get you better.” Dav nodded. “Just let me get my pack.”


	5. Chapter 5

The worgen before her ate like a starving man. He was, for it had been weeks since a proper meal for him. 

The Scarlet Stockades had not been kind to him. When Hannah had helped him limp from the prison in the cover of night, she had felt all of his ribs through his fur, and short fur it was as well. Whole patches were missing, and his coat was dull and greasy. The only hair that seemed to have kept growing was the tangled monster on his head. 

She reached forward carefully, fully aware of how male worgen defend their food. Her fingertips barely brush the plate across from her and he growled low in his throat.

“You're going to make yourself sick, Wolf.” 

“You care about me now? You stuck me in the bloody stocks, woman.” He hissed, claws closing around another biscuit. 

“I already apologized for that! I got you out, didn't I?” She threw her hands in the air, already fed up with him. It had been something she had been planning for all of five minutes, spurred on by doubts she was beginning to have in her superiors. Had they been right to imprison Wolfsbane just because he was a worgen?

“Fat lot of help you were, I still had to take on the guards.” 

“If they saw me you wouldn't be here right now.” 

Hannah and Wolfsbane glared at each other across the table. The worgen began to aggressively eat again, incurring a sigh from his would-be rescuer. 

“Fine, but let it be known I tried.” 

The two sat in silence for a great while. Hannah stared at the table, contemplating on if what she had done had been right in the first place. Ever since the altercation between her and her brother in Ashenvale, she had been second-guessing her decisions. Her decision to join the Scarlet Crusade, to bury who she once was, the use that wonderful, terrible power on her own brother, even to force her way into the Pools of Vision. 

At the time it had seemed like the right thing to do, but now, sitting at her table with an old friend who shouldn't be there, she dared to think. Was she wrong? Was what the Crusade doing truly the best for Azeroth? This wasn't her first moment of doubt, and she did not like it. Her faith in the Scarlet Crusade was wavering.

Her younger brother’s scream was the worst thing she had ever heard. It reminded her of right after she joined the Crusade. Hundreds of them, rotting and cold, begging for their lives, crying, screaming, like a demented chorus of desperate people. Father Enfield told her they weren't people, but when she saw _her_ \--

A fist slammed on the table. It was Wolfsbane, trying to get her attention. 

“Since you ain't doing anything, can you get an old friend some more wine?” 

Hannah glared. “No. You need to be cleaned up, and you need clothes.” 

Wolfsbane-- begrudgingly-- allowed her to brush his mane while he was attempting to bathe. The prison was filthy and she wasn't surprised at the discovery of lice and the mange. It only made her brush and scrub harder, much to his annoyance. It only got worse when she brought out the lime to treat his mange. 

After being scrubbed and brushed till the skin beneath his fur felt raw, she marched him into her bedroom and went rummaging around in her closet.

“Hannah.” He said, slightly bemused, “This isn't the time--” 

“Quiet!” She came back out clutching a large greatcoat, “I've had this since you were arrested, now put it on and get some sleep.” She balled up the cloth and threw it at him.

He slipped the greatcoat onto his broad shoulders, relishing the feeling of proper, clean clothing. “I think it's time to tell me why you broke me out, love.” 

“It wasn't something I planned, I can tell you that. Now shut up and sleep, I'm going to go to the Stocks and pretend like I found those guards the way you left them.” 

-|-

“So are you going to tell me what happened yesterday?” 

Eydís stared quietly at the passing waves. He had been there all day and night. 

“Are you finally going to tell us who you are?” 

“Maybe I will after you tell me what that was yesterday.” 

Eydís sighed. Like all sin’dorei, he suffered from a mana addiction, and currently he didn't have any mana crystals or another source, leaving him at the mercy of the ley lines and unreliable sources. At the risk of turning into one of the wretched, he had drained the night elf woman yesterday for a quick fix. 

“I was.. suffering from mana withdrawal. I ran out of mana crystals days ago.” He said. 

She nodded. “I understand. I've heard about your people’s struggle with mana and the fel.”

Eydís fell silent once again. 

“We can find you some mana crystals, don't worry.” The Lady in Black patted his knee. 

“Are you going to tell me your name?” He raised an eyebrow. She pursed her lips together, looked out across the sea. Like she was searching for an excuse as to why she couldn't tell him. 

‘The Lady in Black’ was a title that had kept her anonymous for years. It was a security and a luxury she used to keep shame from her family, and possibly even lie to herself. It pushed down what was underneath. Who she used to be. 

“I just want a name to put to the face.” Eydís cut through her thoughts. 

After another long moment of silence, she spoke. “Diane.” It would feel good to be called by her old name again. “Diane Marlowe.” 

-|- 

Dav trampled along behind Erikson through he Ashenvale, following the dirty blonde hair while avoiding night elven encampments. With Dav, a druid, and a tauren, the night elves were a bit more at ease, especially when Erikson did the exact opposite when the sentinels caught sight of him. They would hesitate, possibly debating on his status in the Cenarion Circle, and they could slip past. 

Thankfully, both were pleasantly surprised to find that Silverwind Refuge had been taken by the Horde. The defenders that were there were happy for their arrival and allowed them in, glad for the help. Even with Erikson injured, he was still an extra set of hands. 

The day was young, having been a couple of days since they had left Mulgore, and all figured that the Silverwing Sentinels hadn't received word about their destroyed refuge yet. Erikson took it upon himself to explore, possibly angering Dav in the process as he wandered off to get hurt once again. Erikson merely wanted to ask the goblins if they had seen one of his friends. 

He was amazed by the skunkworks. If the lieutenant was to be believed, then the Horde had only had the refuge overnight, meaning the goblins had set up a large workshop in the span of a few hours. They had even begun construction on a very large and very volatile looking bomb.

“Can I help you, Mr. Undead sir?” One of them asked as he scanned the workers. His blue hair was pulled out of his face into a greasy topknot, and a beak of a nose rested in the center of his face. 

“I'm looking for a friend of mine.” He said. “Her name is--” 

“Oh. M. Goodness!” The shrill, incredibly familiar voice came from a work stall ten feet away. 

Erikson had no time to react as a little green and blonde blur raced towards him and jumped right onto his chest, legs hooking around his midsection and arms wrapping around his face. He cringed, letting out a groan of pain. He moved to hold her, but she jumped off right at his moan. 

“Erik I'm so so sorry! And--” she smacked his thigh, “So angry! Don't make us worry like that! Going off and leaving us!” 

“Nice to see you too, Sprocket.” He rested a hand over his wound, “Going off and leaving--? You guys left me!” 

“What?” She quirked an eyebrow, looking confused. “No no-- you walked waaaaaay ahead of us, ya see..” she popped out her hip and set her hand on it, “and when we turned a corner turns out you went the opposite way! Durm and Mal thought you left us! Of course Alunette didn't but she's not here right now..”

“Where's everyone then? If you're here--”

“Mallory got called back to Org, the coven wanted something from her. Durm went to ‘commune with the spirits of Darkshore’.” She giggled after imitating Durm’s slow, deep voice, “and Alune is in Outland.” 

“Outland?!” 

“Yup.” 

“Well shit we have to go!” Erik said, running his fingers through his hair, “Listen, I've got this tauren friend called Dav and--” 

“Not yet! You've got some explaining to do, sir. We’re going up to Silverwing Lodge and you're telling me exactly where you've been these last three weeks.” She smiled as she crossed her arms, already making her way up to the lodge.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do people still like references to vanilla? I do.

“Hey! We can pick up Mallory on the way to Outland!” Sprocket cried happily. 

Erikson snorted. “I'm surprised the coven is still there.” 

“Of course! Where would they put the magi?” She said with triumph. The Forsaken magi had first taught the orcs of magic, but it was the blood elves that had helped perfect their technique. Most were still skeptical, however, and orcish mages tended to hang around in the Cleft of Shadow along with the warlocks. 

“This.. Mallory. How long have you known her?” Dav asked, coming out of his silence. 

“Back when I was burning night elven camps in Ashenvale, years and years ago.” Erik waved his hands as if brushing dust off of years long past. “Odd pair, she and Durm are. A shaman and a warlock.” 

“Is she trustworthy?” 

“Oh what next, ya gonna ask if she killed any _plants_?” Sprocket cooed. 

“Sprock don't antagonize him, he's right to be skeptical of a warlock.” Erikson mumbled, loud enough for her to hear. If he raised his voice it would hurt to much. 

“I'm just sayin’. I mean, you said you were friends for years and he's over here asking if she's trustworthy, how long have _you_ known _Erik_? I've known you like two hours!” She squeaked. 

Dav huffed, “I saved his life.” He wasn't bragging, he was just stating the facts. 

This wasn't good enough for Sprocket, however. The little goblin hopped up a rock, then a rather high tree stump, then up onto a large boulder to be eye level with the tauren. She planted her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes as Dav stopped their walk to meet her gaze. 

“Listen here, _cow-_ -” 

“Sprocket.”

“I don't know you, and since you feel the need to judge people you haven't even met, I don't trust you!” 

“Sprocket-”

“I mean, for all I know, you could be some demon in disguise, or a member of the Twilight’s Hammer! Those guys blend right in! You could even be--” 

“Sprocket--”

“A spy for the Alliance! They like you guys well enough I mean--” 

“Sprocket!” Erikson yelled. His guts ached at the minor exertion. “That's enough. You either get along with Dav, or you go back to Silverwing Refuge.” 

The little goblin looked hurt. She had probably expected him to agree with her. She jumped down from the boulder to the tree stump, then to the smaller rock, then to the ground, where she pawed at it slightly with her foot. For several moments she said nothing. 

“Yeah okay.” She said begrudgingly. 

“Come on, the base over Astranaar has wind riders. We’ll be in Orgrimmar before you know it.” 

The fact that they wanted Sprocket to ride with him didn't faze him. Yes, she was smaller than average and while there weren't signs saying ‘you must be this tall to ride Manty’ it was recommended smaller races find smaller mounts. Another concern was, as a goblin, she may find just about any reason to sue. Yes she would bitch and moan, but she couldn't slip off as easy with him behind her. 

Also it lowered her chance of dying. 

“But I don't wanna! What am I, your daughter?” She said as she stomped along beside him as they waited in line. 

“No, my daughter is a fair bit taller than you by now.” He replied. 

“But I'm not a little kid! All the taller races think we can't do things because to them we’re like-- like-- like children!” She cried as he picked her up and climbed onto the wind rider. 

“Sprocket.” He sighed, steering the beast as it took flight, “You are not a child, maybe we’re just concerned because you're small and everything we use is made for something our size.” 

“Oh. It makes sense when you say it like that.” 

The little goblin fell silent. Occasionally she would try for conversation, but it usually died after one or two sentences. She leaned back against Erikson, her head pressing against his plate put pressure on his sword wound. He grimaced, but said nothing. 

Upon landing, Sprocket hopped off and waited for him, arms crossed. 

“Listen I'm sorry about what happened back there.” She said as they waited for Dav. 

“It's alright. I understand why you did it.” 

“I just-- I don't like it when people talk that way about Mal, ya know? I mean she--” 

“Enough, we’re not talking about that here.” Erikson held up a hand to quiet her as Dav flew up. He looked excited to dismount after the journey. “New to flying?” 

Dav nodded. “I hope we don't have to do that again soon. A portal is more comfortable.” 

Erikson cringed. He wasn't a fan of portals in life, and he wasn't a fan of portals in death. When he was alive they would leave him shaky, and his stomach in knots. In death, he got the general sense of unease, and a fear he may be left floating in the void. 

“Come on, the Cleft is this way.” Sprocket led them down to the Drag, full of shops and littered with goblin stalls thrown up probably overnight. 

The opening to the Cleft of Shadows was a giant hole in the side of rock in the center of the city, with several spikes of wood sharpened to deadly points hanging over like the jagged teeth of a monster’s jaw. The Darkspear guards eyed Erikson with suspicion, but if he noticed, he didn’t say anything. Sprocket took off down the cave, occasionally letting out a “Mallory! Mallory we’re coming to rescue you!” 

“This place makes me uneasy.” Dav vocalized. 

“They make everyone uneasy.” Erikson countered, walking after Sprocket quickly. 

The cave was full of smoke and smelled of brimstone. Torches barely lit the inside, and several huts had been put up that also housed rogues, training the next generation in the art. On the lowest level of the cave, a small crowd of warlocks stood in around a summoning circle, chanting in a strange language. Just as the demon they were summoning, a large blue doomguard, appeared, one of the warlocks, a goblin, clutched his chest and gasped for air, before falling over limp. 

“Shit. Let's hope Flint had his soulstone this time.” _This time?_

Sprocket came to a screeching halt before the small gathering, breathing hard. “Wheres Mal?” 

Another warlock, this one undead, threw a hand towards one of the crudely made huts, letting out a few garbled words from his jawless mouth. Dav felt disgust curl in his guts as he watched the man’s discolored tongue flip in every direction from where it hung from his throat. 

“Who out here be screamin’ about rescue?” A tall, dark blue troll with white hair styled in a wild mohawk, with braids thrown over either shoulder, emerged from the hut. What Dav could only assume was blood covered her hands and she had a smear on her cheek. She had sizable tusks for a female and was incredibly intimidating from where she stood. 

“Oh oh! Me!” Sprocket threw her hand in the air, jumping up and down at the sight of her friend.

Mallory smiled at the goblin, and smiled even wider when she saw Erikson. As she descended into the lower part of the cave, she spoke. “Ya didn’t die afta’ all.” 

“Takes a lot more than a few _humans_ , Mal.” He chuckled. He and Mallory went way back, her being one of the first people he met who wasn’t a jerk to him that wasn’t also undead. She didn’t care. She and Durm had been his first real friends in the Horde. 

“Relax, big guy, it ain’t anyone important’s.” She snickered at Dav, who was staring at Mallory’s bloodied hands. He looked ill. 

“Mal, we were trying to get the group gathered back up to go hunting for someone-- it’s a long story, let's get back inside.” Erikson explained. 

“It be my pleasure, come on it, don’t be shy.” She led them back to her hut. 

A fair bit of time later, Mallory emerged with everyone, decked out in much finer cloth armor than she normally was, which was usually just a wrap and a loincloth. Now however, she had warlock regalia on, and looked ready to fight. 

“Let's go get Alune so we can go punch those meddlin’ Alliance creeps back to ‘der own continent.” She growled, struggling with one of her bracers. 

“Don’t forget about the Scarlet Crusade.” Erikson reminded. 

“Yeah yeah, ‘dos guys too.” She clicked her tongue excitedly as she tied off the offending piece of clothing. “Come on, we got a portal to Hellfire in here.” 

She led them up to the topmost section of the cave, where several mages sat, playing a game of Hearthstone. 

“Gar, me an’ me friends need a port to Hellfire.” She flicked a gold coin right onto the orc’s forehead.

The orc, Gar, stood, groaning about Mallory and her coven being too loud, how he should raise the price and young ruffians, but nevertheless he opened up the portal, showing an almost clear picture of Hellfire Peninsula. 

Erikson let everyone go before him, even edging Sprocket in. Had he been alive, his pulse would be racing right now. Swallowing nervously, he closed his eyes and ran headfirst into the portal.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: this chapter has some sensitive themes and suggestions, so please read with care.

He felt like he was hurtling through nothing until he felt air hit his face. His foot caught on the rough-hewn stone of the Dark Portal and he fell, hard, onto his knees, catching himself on his hands. Panic thrummed in his mind, his limbs felt even more numb than usual. He sucked in useless breath, his dead lungs fluttering in his chest. He heaved, unproductively. 

“Erik, we on ‘de other side now, you be fine.” Mallory squatted next to him, putting a hand on his back. 

Erikson sat up slowly, looking around. The red rock of Hellfire Peninsula sat before him in he background. In the foreground, the concerned faces of Dav and Sprocket. His expression snapped to his normal frown. 

“None of you saw that.” He got up and dusted himself off. 

Sprocket shrugged her shoulders. “Saw what?” 

The corners of his mouth turned up in the semblance of a smile and he stood up. In the background, down the steps, a sergeant was yelling at grunts as they poured from the portal. 

“Come now, Alune be in Shattrath.” Mallory sprinted down the stair of destiny, right towards the wind rider handler, an imposing orc woman with a single still brown braid. 

They all followed suit, chasing after her as she got onto a wind rider before the rest of them. 

-|-

“My lady.” Loud thumps on wood came from behind her. The ship creaked. “You have been up for hours.” 

“The dead don't sleep.” She wrapped her arms around herself. 

“That may be, but I have observed your kind laying down in a trance-like state before. I assumed it was sleep.” Vareek sat down next to her. 

“A crude imitation of sleep, then.” She muttered, “Eydís has been up for hours as well, but you aren't so concerned with him.” She pointed at the mage, who was leaning up against the railing of his ship. His face was pale and his eyes looked miserable. Sea travel didn't agree with him. 

“Yes, but I know what is bothering him. I do not know what is bothering you.” 

“Perhaps I am just ill at ease.” 

At the word ‘ill’ Eydís retched and leaned over the railing. When he was done he sat down next to them and let out a weak; “sorry.” 

“Do not be sorry, it happens to all of us.” The wind picked up, and water droplets sprinkled his face, cooling him. The elf sighed happily. 

“Thank you.” 

Diane stood and braced herself against the railing, staring into the distance. She could see something, it was darker against the horizon than other things, and it was bigger. She could tell. It almost looked like…

“Land!” She cried, pointing at the island. “I can see Azuremyst!” 

Eydís let out a whoop. “Praise the Light!” 

“Do not get too excited. We still have a ways to go, even with the elements on our side. We will be there in a few hours.” Vareek explained. Eydís slumped back to where he had been sitting before. 

Diane, however, was quite breathless. Well, she was always breathless, but excitement thrummed inside of her. Finally she could meet O’ros, hear his important message. She would find out what the Crusade was doing on Kalimdor, and why it was so important that they stop them. Her revelry, however, was stopped when she saw Vareek stand, a dark look on his face. 

“This is where I must unfortunately reveal.. what is the common word for it.. my allegiance.” The boat rocked, sending Eydís to his knees. 

Diane dashed away, knowing full well she had no place to hide. This ship was incredibly small, even if she managed to get out of Vareek’s sight, it wouldn't be long till he found her again. 

She closed her eyes and concentrated. She would not go down without a fight. She felt the familiar burn in her arms and chest as the warm essence of the Light coalesced in her hands. She snarled, turning on the draenei. 

“Stay back!” She held the Light in her grip, trying to block out the sting as it equally accepted and denied her. 

“Calm down, it will only hurt for a moment.” Vareek hefted his mace. She screamed, throwing the Light at the weapon, vaporizing it immediately. Vareek growled, rearing back his fist. 

She passed out just as it connected with her jaw. 

-|-

Diane was falling. Forsaken don't dream. She knew she wasn't dead, she had tasted oblivion before, and this was not it. This was much worse. 

She landed in a ground of her fellow undead, all whimpering and pleading for their miserable lives. As much as they craved an end to this torture, death still scared them. She didn't blame them. 

Diane was next in line. She could hear the screams. The Crusade had been using them to perform experiments. Dissecting they. Trying to figure out the secrets of the Scourge. 

_There are no secrets, only foul magic_. She thought bitterly. 

A guard grabbed her roughly by the arm. “Walk, filth!” He demanded, pushing her forwards. 

The Scarlet Monastery was a nightmare come to life. Fires burned free and undead were strapped to tables. Crude ‘doctors’ hovered over them, taking notes. She cried. 

“Wait, I recognize this one.” A man in priest regalia sauntered over. “Sister Diane!” 

“You left me and those men to die!” She spat through her tears. “You have no right to whatever grand position they've given you, Enfield.” 

Father Enfield laughed. He laughed a deep, rumbling laugh like she was a child who hadn't grasped reality yet. He laughed a laugh she heard in her nightmares, that taunted her when she was the Lich King’s thrall. 

He grabbed her by her hair. She screeched, thrashing, kicking her legs. “Lets you and I get reacquainted, sister. We have a lot to talk about.” 

He dragged her to a barn, kicking and screaming, and threw her to the ground. The dirt beneath her was soaked with blood. 

“My, he got you good, didn't he?” He chuckled, motioning to the bite wound that still graced her neck, still caked her chest with dried blood. He walked over to her, forcing her onto her back. The stays of her bodice creaked. “What a resilient little creature you are. Barely any rot.” He stroked her face. “You were always my favorite, Diane.” 

Diane was trapped. She was trapped and was going to die a second time and no one would care and she wouldn't have had her revenge. She would be tortured and get no revenge. Arthas would walk free, alive and she dead--

Enfield had a pistol on his belt. 

He was too enraptured with how preserved she was, and the hole torn by whomever had bitten her neck to notice her grab the weapon from him. 

“Eat shit in hell.” She pulled the trigger in his gut, blood spurting out of his back. She pushed Enfield off of her, giving him a kick for good measure. 

Armed with the pistol, Diane rushed outside. Scarlet Crusaders, upon seeing her, pointed and shouted for someone to grab her. She shot them both, not emotion showing on her face. She wanted them dead. 

She executed one after another, till the grounds were silent. She looted the jailer’s corpse and freed her fellow prisoners, telling them to run. She stayed. Pressed the gun barrel to her temple. 

Something rammed into her from behind, forcing both of them to the ground. The person wrestled her arms above her head despite her pleas. 

“Stop! Let me die! Let it end! I want to die!” 

“Stop this madness Diane!” A plated hand slapped her across the face. It was her sister, Hannah. “I brought you extra bullets. You need to go.” 

Hannah helped Diane to her feet, handing her the pistol and a holster for her hip as well. She pointed out of the gates where she had let out the other undead. “Leave. I’ll tell them everyone escaped. I love you, little sister.”

Diane said nothing. 

-|-

She woke to Eydís’ moaning in her ear. Both of them were tied to the mast, side-by-side. In front of them, Vareek was steering the ship towards the Azuremyst isles. 

Still shaken by old memories, her voice caught in her throat. Eydís picked up his head, narrowed eyes and furrowed brow aimed at Vareek. 

“We’ll arrive at Azuremyst soon.” Vareek said, loud enough for them to hear. 

“You bastard.” Eydís groaned, tugging weakly at the ropes. “We trusted you.”

Diane found her voice. “Vareek! I paid you, dammit!” She kicked with her feet, who dangled a few inches off the ground. 

“And I'm taking you to where you want to go, my lady. The Alliance thanks you for your cooperation.” 

With Eydís incapacitated and her own abilities shaken by the nightmare, they were trapped. 

-|-

Erikson broke away from the group as soon as the tour of Shattrath was over. He made a break for the Scryer elevator, the guards paying him no heed. 

Alunette was his best friend of several years. She was small, and wise, and kind. They had been on several adventures all by themselves and it was honestly a wonder how they were even still alive. She had come into his life at a very dark time, and he was thankful for what she did for him. There was nothing but excitement he felt as the elevator ascended. 

He stepped off in the Scryer’s tier, full of blood elves and blood elf architecture. He caught the attention of one. 

“Excuse me, do you know an Alunette Bloodfeather?” He asked. 

The man blinked. “Oh yes, she's with the inscriptors.” He pointed towards an open building with several flying books around it. Erik dashed towards it. 

There she was, right in the doorway. Red hair styled in an updo, bangs coming to a point on her forehead, a smudge of ink on her cheeks. She saw him and her face lit up.

“Erik! You're alive!” She hugged him, hard. For once, he hugged back.


End file.
